


vampire fuckery

by Prim_the_Amazing



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, some soren and viren as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-30 00:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16275083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/pseuds/Prim_the_Amazing
Summary: He shivers at her touch, eyes slipping closed. He tips his chin up, offering her his throat seemingly without thought.There may be some new magic vampire fuckery happening here, she realizes.





	vampire fuckery

Dad always said not to experiment with trying to make new spells, but then _ he _ went and did it, like that was at all fair. Claudia wants to try out new things too! Play with magic! Have fun! 

She knows what he’d say to that.  _ Magic isn’t a toy, Claudia. It’s a knife.  _

He’d let Soren play with knives as a boy, though. With this logic in mind, she’d set forth to try out something new and exciting and interesting and… well, something new and exciting and interesting  _ had _ happened. 

“Claudia,” her dad says, voice dripping with exasperation. 

“Look on the bright side, dad. I could have exploded myself instead, but I didn’t! Silverlinings!” she says, except only about half of the sounds come out as intended because she’s still not used to talking around a pair of fangs. She keeps drooling. 

“The commoners are going to burn you at the cross if they find out about this,” her dad says, handing her a handkerchief. She dabs at her chin, tries to lick and poke at her new dental additions without nicking herself on their sharp points. 

“Do you think I’m venomous? Ooh, do you think I count as a magical creature now? Can I use parts of myself for spells!?” 

“I’ll have to start suppressing the information,” he says to himself instead of answering her questions, which is understandable because  _ Claudia  _ can barely understand what she just said. Think came out as theenk, and count came out as cant. She keeps lisping on her esses. Creature was incomprehensible. 

“She sells seashells by the seashore,” she tries. 

“What?” her dad says. “Claudia, you’re going to have to work on your diction or else you’re going to get yourself caught as an undead creature of the night almost immediately.”

“I think the fangs are gonna get me discovered pretty fast all on their own, dad.” 

“We’re going to have to do something about the fangs,” he says. “They’ll get you caught before anything else.” 

“Woah, it’s like you’re reading my mind! Or understanding what I’m saying.” 

“Perhaps we could just… cut them off?” 

Claudia’s stomach rumbles. 

Claudia blacks out for a bit. 

Claudia comes to crouched over a man and covered in blood, panting and full. 

“Alright, so that’s out,” says her dad, sounding shell shocked behind her. 

 

Her dad assures her that she’s done absolutely nothing wrong. The man she drank from was a prisoner of the crown, after all. He did terrible things. Murder, in fact. Child murder, so don’t worry about it. Also, it’s not like she _ killed _ him. He’ll be fine! No, she probably shouldn’t see him again. 

Claudia, relieved, does indeed stop worrying about it and instead worries about her ruined dress. Is it beyond saving? Could she perhaps turn to dark magic to fix it? 

And… nothing else happens that evening, really. Her dad fetches her a clean dress, tells her to practice speaking, and vanishes off to take care of things. Probably all of that blood she spilled on the floor. 

Claudia, used to chanting exercises, dutifully practices speaking and then goes to bed a bit before the sun rises. She’d accidentally stayed up all night again, oops. She smiles at a maid she passes, who squeaks and drops the folded sheets she’d been carrying to freeze like a frightened prey animal. 

Fangs. Right. She clears her throat and closes her mouth over them. It’s a bit hard. 

“Costume,” she says carefully. 

 

Weeks pass and soon she’s talking as normally as ever. There’s a lot of whispering whenever she enters a room, but some people actually seem to buy the ‘costume’ thing to some degree, at least enough not to drive a wooden stake through her heart. Claudia tries not to be too obvious about suddenly turning nocturnal. 

Her dad keeps feeding her prisoners. 

“Traitors to the crown,” he says. “Scum of the earth. Don’t worry about them, Claudia. Just take what you need.” 

She does. It seems like she won’t black out so long as she doesn’t let herself get too hungry. Consciously, deliberately drinking someone’s blood is… interesting! It tastes salty and coppery in a very fun way, but it feels weird to put her lips to some stranger’s throat and bite down and drink. Like she’s kissing people she’s never even met before. 

“Remember to never let anyone find out about this, Claudia,” her dad says after she finishes eating, leaving a dazed and dizzy prisoner sprawled out in chains on the floor. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know dad,” she says, wiping her mouth. 

Soren walks in on her eating once, but  _ Soren  _ doesn’t count. He’s family! 

“Oh my god,” he says, turning away and making a gagging noise, hunching over like he’s on the brink of vomiting. 

“What’s the big deal?” she says, licking at her lips. “You’re a messy eater too.” 

“It’s  _ blood.” _

“Soren. I’ve _ seen  _ you actually for real stab people.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t drink the blood afterwards! That’s gross!” He looks at her over his shoulder to shoot her an indignant look, pales at the sight of her, and turns back around to make more gagging noises. 

Claudia rolls her eyes and goes back to her meal. 

 

Callum is cute. He’s pretty much always been cute. There’s a problem though, which is that he’s somehow managed to be _ even cuter _ lately. More blushing, more stumbling over his words, more smiling at her. His blushing has always been adorable, but now it makes her hindbrain sit up and pay attention, makes her think about blood and licking and sucking and lapping and biting and kissing and-- 

She’s not entirely sure how much of this is new vampire instincts and how much of this is just her. It feels kind of… all tangled up together. 

She stumbles into him one day. Literally, while turning a corner. She drops her four very heavy tomes, and he his one sketchbook. 

“Oh,” Callum says, looking up at her wide eyed and close. “Ah, um.” 

Claudia leans in and inhales slowly through her nose, eyes closing without thought like she’s smelling a beautiful rose. He smells good enough to make her feel _ dizzy.  _ She sways closer towards him. 

This particular thing is probably more instincts than her. When she opens her eyes Callum’s face is bright red. Red with blood and shyness and-- anticipation? Affection? _ Excitement?  _

She may be projecting some of her own feelings on him, to be entirely honest. 

“Those are real, aren’t they,” he says, and she realizes after a moment that he’s staring at her fangs and not her lips, as she’s more used to. 

“Yeah,” she says and laughs. Callum’s  _ practically _ family, she’s sure it’s fine. Dad’s always going on about how close they are to the royal family! 

She watches with deep interest as the flush reaches the tips of Callum’s ears. 

“That’s. Neat,” he says stiltedly. Claudia inhales. He smells _ irresistible, _ like a perfectly ripe sweet piece of fruit. 

“Do you want for me to bite you, Callum?” she asks, because she suddenly really, really wants to bite him but of course she can’t bite Callum. He’s not a prisoner but a prince, and-- she wouldn’t want to be mean to him. He’s _ Callum. _ It would feel like kicking a small animal, for no good reason at all, not even using his pain as a spell ingredient available as an excuse. But if he said  _ yes-- _ but why would he say yes--

Her question visibly sinks in for him, and she gives him a fangy delighted grin as he stumbles over his words, voice cracking as he tries to backpedal and agree at the same time. Honestly, what a  _ cutie.  _ Callum must be more adventurous than she’d at first assumed. 

“I am kind of peckish,” she says, and then she takes him by his arm and leads him up to his room. Privacy is good. She’s not supposed to let people see her like this, after all. And having Callum all to herself sounds-- nice. Good.  _ Very _ good. 

Callum stumbles after, not fighting her grip in the slightest. She likes how he’s shorter than her. Likes his eyes, and his hair, and his mouth, and his throat…

The throat being a thing for her is new. Not unwelcome, though. 

They come to his room. 

“Invite me inside, Callum,” she says. 

“Wha-- oh, vampire, right, haha, sorry.” A moment, and then he seems to realize that he hasn’t actually invited her yet and he awkwardly clears his throat. “Claudia, I invite you into my room.” 

“Thanks!” she says, and sweeps him into his room along with her. She looks around curiously, never having been here before. The walls are covered in drawings, there are some books strewn about in disarray, and Callum yelps almost immediately and starts rushing around his room, straightening his sheets and picking up discarded clothes and books and pencils. 

“Er, sorry, usually only Ezran--” 

“Oh my god,” she coos, zooming in on the drawings. “Did Ezran draw these? That’s so cute!” 

“I, um, yeah,” he laughs. “He’s pretty good.” 

He really isn’t. Ezran’s colorful scribbles hung up next to Callum’s pretty pictures only highlights that, but it’s extremely cute. 

“I used to draw runes for fun when I was a kid,” she says. “But dad made me stop after I set fire to some curtains. And a bed. And a carpet.” 

“Oooh,  _ cool,”  _ he says, and it’s _ sincere.  _

Dad doesn’t play around and Soren thinks magic’s weird and spooky and honestly so does most of everyone else in the castle. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, it _ is  _ cool.” 

Callum’s gaze has gravitated back to her mouth again, she realizes. She grins and taps at one of her fangs. “These are pretty cool too.” 

He averts his eyes, flushes. Steals quick glances back to her fangs. “Yeah.” 

She takes a step closer to him, feels gleefully predatory in a strange way. In the closed room it’s easier to smell his scent, and it gets easier the closer she gets. He smells-- delectable,  _ eager-- _

She’s already eaten today. Which means that it’s probably safe to bite Callum just a _ bit, _ she won’t lose control, but it also makes it kind of weird that she’s so excited to do it. It’s an experiment. That’s it. She loves experiments. 

“You, um,” Callum says, “don’t have to if you don’t want to, by the way--” 

“I know,” she says, takes him by the shoulders and starts slowly walking him back towards his bed. “I promise I’ll be gentle, Callum.” 

“Oh my god,” he says, and now he’s hiding his smiling, red face behind his hands. She’s got the feeling she just accidentally said something funny. She doesn’t mind. Callum’s smiles always make her smile back. 

She sends him sprawling onto his back on his bed with a shove, and then she’s crawling on top of him. She cards her hair so it only falls over one shoulder, leans down, takes in his dilating pupils, breathes in the delicious scent of him.  _ Take me, _ his smell says, something no one else has smelled like. It’s intoxicating. Like he wants this as much as she does. 

She kisses his throat. He jumps a little at the coldness of her lips. She’s always run cold, but now she’s as cold as marble. Cold, but she can warm up eventually with someone else’s persistent touch, like a necklace warming up against your skin until it lies comfortably. 

She licks at him, his skin tasty-salty, and Callum jumps a little again and then laughs nervously. She strokes a hand up his side and he shivers. 

And then she closes her eyes and _ bites. _ It’s a slow and steady thing, her fangs penetrating easily like a hot knife through butter. No resistance. 

She readies herself to hold him down, braces herself for the instinctive struggling, the mess, but instead where before he’d been tense and nervous he goes limp and pliant beneath her. She drinks and it’s  _ heaven. _ She hadn’t thought she’d be affected so much, but, but--  _ he wants it, eager, giving.  _ She wants to wrap him up and never let him go. He tastes like sunshine that doesn’t burn. 

Callum is gasping and making little noises that are almost as delicious as his blood as she drinks, as she tries to go slow and not take too much. It’s not that hard, actually, like there’s something in her that knows how to nurse a meal and not kill it. It’s never been like this with the others. She’d felt like a python squeezing the life out of a prey animal with the others, their struggling just making her instinctively hurt them more. Callum lies still and her brain tells her  _ safe.  _ Take your time. No hurry. No struggle. She could let him go and he’d come back to her, he wouldn’t run. A sure meal. 

She laves her tongue over his neck like he’s desert, and is careful not to tear with her fangs, which is suddenly so easy when her meal’s actually _ cooperating _ with her. He’s practically leaning into her mouth. 

She doesn’t want for it to hurt for him. She wants to make it feel good. 

Callum, suddenly, moans. She pulls back to look down at him. His face is flushed, eyes dazed. He looks  _ drunk.  _

The puncture wounds in his neck have neatly sealed, she notes. That’s new. That’s _ handy.  _

“Callum?” she asks, reaches up to brush his bangs away from his forehead and feels his temperature. He feels hot. Everyone feels hot to her, nowadays, though. 

He shivers at her touch, eyes slipping closed. He tips his chin up, offering her his throat seemingly without thought. 

There may be some new magic vampire fuckery happening here, she realizes. 

Callum’s lashes are long. She’s frequently thought of him as cute and adorable, but somehow pretty had never occurred to her before now. But he is. Pretty. She wants to see more of him, more pretty. 

She kisses at his throat, that enticing heat at her lips. She swears to god she can smell his blood through his  _ skin. _ Her hands, almost without her noticing, starts unlacing his clothes, pushing up his shirt. 

“Claudia,” Callum says, making her name sound like a prayer, a spell. She runs her hands along his bare skin, loves it. It’s so warm and alive and  _ responsive, _ reacting to her every touch. 

“Callum,” she says back, breathing it against his throat in between kisses. “Do you want for me to make you feel good?” 

_ “Yes,” _ he says, voice breaking with need. 

“Okay,” she says, nuzzles up underneath his jaw, and grabs his hard dick in her hand. Callum  _ shouts.  _

Honestly, he deserves it for giving her the best meal of her new undead life. For being such a pretty, cute, good boy. Also, she likes it. 

Claudia starts stroking him. It makes Callum finally move, but only to hold onto her and tremble with overwhelmed desire, so it still registers as something in her vampire brain that makes her feel fond and protective, makes her want to spoil him rotten. 

His dick feels good in her palm. It’d be a good fit inside of her pussy, she’s sure. She shifts, belatedly feels wetness between her legs, a squirmy sort of heat curling up from the pit of her belly that makes her rub her thighs together, chasing any kind of friction. 

She’s wearing a skirt today. It’s like fate. 

She starts tugging it up to her hips, pulling her underwear down one leg to bunch up forgotten at a knee, and Callum makes a high, wavering sound at the sight. She grins down at his overwhelmed, disbelieving face, like he’s seeing magic so incredible he’s having a hard time even processing it. 

“Oh my god,” he says. 

“Glad I wore my lacy panties today.” 

“Oh my _ god.”  _

“Say Claudia instead.” 

_ “Claudia!”  _ he cries out as she grabs his dick again to angle it just right. 

_ “Eeee,”  _ she squees, overcome with affection by just the way he said her name somehow, and she reaches out to boop his nose with a finger. He goes cross eyed to look at it, which is  _ awww, _ and then she sits down on his dick. 

The sound he makes is so soft she almost drowns it out with her own moan, but she can see it in every line of his body. She bites her lower lip, releases it with a small hiss of pain as the fangs she’d forgotten about for a moment dig in too sharply. She slowly grinds down into Callum’s lap. Callum’s keep grabbing at things; the sheets, his hair, her thighs. Not attacks, not struggles to get away, just overwhelmed with sensation and trying to work it out without-- without moving his hips. Because she hasn’t told him to do so yet. 

She hadn’t even had to tell him to do that. He’s so  _ good.  _

“Callum,” she says, besotted, and leans down to pepper kisses on his perfect little face. He groans at the way this makes the place they’re joined move, and she breathes shakily against his cheek for the same reason. “You can move, sweetie.” 

“Thanks,” he says, looking up at her with amazed, grateful eyes. His clothing’s undone, his hair ruffled, his face flushed, and there’s a hickey now where she’d sucked his blood. Somehow, that happening hadn’t occurred to her while she’d been doing it. Usually there’s just an oozing wound that needs a bandage slapped on it left behind. She was able to do better this time, for some reason. She wants to be able to replicate that. This requires further experimentation. 

Plus, he just looks so wonderfully debauched that she  _ cannot  _ resist. He looks like the cover of an illicit romance novel. 

He thrusts up into her, a gentle, tentative movement, the first exploratory attempt. She makes a pleased humming noise as he shudders at the feel of her. She’d been right. He fits  _ just _ right. 

She grazes her fangs across his throat, a light scraping. Teasing, really. 

“Nng!” Callum sounds like she’d done far more than tease. She grinds down into his next more powerful thrust, enjoys the feel of it. “Claudia, you’re so--”

“Yes?” she coaxes him, lips brushing against his skin as she talks. She likes listening to him talk. He can lead her mind down the most interesting paths, sometimes entirely on accident. 

“--so, you make me feel so… you’re so incredible. So, so smart and pretty and nice and funny and now you’ve got _ fangs _ and you  _ drink blood  _ and I don’t, I don’t mind. No I, I _ like _ it--” 

That kind of talking earns Callum another bite to the throat as happy butterflies kick up a storm in her stomach. The second drink tastes somehow even better than the first, and it might have something to do with the fact that he’s inside of her during this time, and she’s just not talking about blood, wink wonk. 

She closes her eyes and _ enjoys. _ Callum goes submissive-limp underneath her again, and she works herself up and down his dick slowly as she sucks, swallows. Can’t take too much, she’s already drunk of him once today, and it’d be  _ dreadful  _ if he didn’t have enough blood to keep his erection going. Also, to live. 

He keeps letting out small satisfied sighs, almost sleepy with pleasure, sprawled out warm and loose. So calm for her. So trusting of her. She definitely can’t let him down. Absolutely can’t hurt him. Be careful. Fragile, important, precious. 

She stops drinking reluctantly, and licks at the bite wound, concentrating on the huge, growing feeling inside of herself that’s all tangled up with the pleased arousal. She doesn’t think she can replicate this with the strangers her dad feeds her, unfortunately. That’d be _ really  _ weird. No one’s as lovable as Callum. 

The wound closes. The taste of Callum is heavy on her tongue. Callum is, with sleepy slow limbs, trying to touch as much of his bare skin to hers as possible. She’s not even sure he’s aware of it, or currently capable of higher thought processes, like an animal instinctively seeking out warmth. It’s terribly cute. 

She drives herself down on his dick with increasing roughness, reaches down to rub at her clit as she works. 

“You aren’t gonna try and run away from me, are you, Callum?” 

He looks at her with heavy lidded wonder, blinks slowly like a cat saying  _ I love you.  _

It isn’t even on his mind, clearly. He wants to be right where he is, underneath her to be used at her leisure. For sex, for blood. She wants to cuddle him and play with his hair, and he’d happily let her. 

“Sweetheart,” she coos, touching his face, moving in a steady rhythm. “Honey. You feel so good. Taste  _ incredible.”  _

“M’glad,” he mumbles. 

“You like my fangs?” 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quiet and creaky in an utterly endearing sort of way. 

She’d already known the answer, but she wanted to hear it. With Soren gagging and Viren desperately covering up for her and all of the prisoners screaming it feels like it would be wrong of her to admit to…  _ not _ hating what she accidentally did to herself. To liking it. To  _ loving _ it. It’s so cool and interesting and it _ feels right.  _

But Callum agrees. He’s happy with the way she is, and it doesn’t feel so wrong for her to feel that way too if someone else is on her side on this. She can’t be wrong if someone else agrees, especially if it’s someone so clever. 

“What do you like about them? Is it,” she giggles, feels giddy with all of the movement and affection and validation, “sexy?” 

“Yes,” Callum says, and somehow, even with his dick inside of her, she hadn’t expected that. The heat of it takes her completely off guard. 

“How long have you thought that,” she says, dry mouthed despite the delicious aftertaste of blood still lingering heavily on her tongue. Blood and sex is in the air. A shockingly good combination. 

“Since I first saw you with them.” 

“What,” she says, because that’s a  _ while. _ “What have you been thinking about?” 

“You. Biting me.” 

“That’s hot?” 

_ “Yes,” _ he groans as she pounds herself down on his length. 

They’re in agreement about that, then. That’s nice. Very nice. 

“You like that? Me ravishing you?”  _ Ravishing.  _ The word should feel overwrought and silly, and maybe it would if it weren’t for the fact that she’s  _ crazy  _ turned on and currently  _ fucking. _ With that in mind, she thinks about herself crowding Callum into a castle alcove and just taking him right there and then, biting and sucking and drinking and getting him off at her leisure just because she wanted to. Thinks about Callum thinking about that, wanting it, dreaming about it, for  _ weeks. _

Callum makes a sound that’s basically an embarrassed whine, clumsily hiding his reddening face with one arm. That’s as good as a yes. 

She should ravish him some. Be a seductive, dangerous vampire, be his walking dream for a while if he’ll be her adorable, eager, warm darling during that time as well. 

She posessively rubs a little circle over the hickey she’s made. He tilts his chin up, offering himself to her a third time. She couldn’t possibly, except that she  _ could. _ It would be dangerous to take any more blood, but he’d let her. He trusts her. Which is exactly why she shouldn’t. She breathes slowly through her wants, so strong right in this moment, and just focuses on how much she loves that he would let her. It’s almost as good as actually drinking again would be, which is incredible considering how much she loves blood. Especially Callum’s blood, for some mysterious, fascinating reason. 

Normally there’s something feral and furious that rears up inside of her when she’s made to pass up a meal, even when it’s her own common sense tearing herself away. But being so readily offered more by the victim himself, it’s-- it makes it okay to say no. Because he’ll offer again later, and then she can say yes. He won’t disappear. 

He trusts her, but she trusts him as well. 

Claudia comes with a cry, supports herself on suddenly weak arms over Callum, their faces close, her hair a curtain around them. She kisses him, sloppily, just because he’s right there and he makes adorable noises into the kiss. He comes too, and it feels right. His blood inside her, his dick, his come. She wants to  _ breathe  _ Callum, him seeping into her pores. She wants to keep him safe and close forever. 

“Claudia,” he gasps, “I love you.” 

A  _ romantic.  _ Too sweet to live, except she’ll cast anyone who tries to hurt him straight into hell. 

She likes Callum, a lot. She thinks her vampire side may just be in complete agreement with her. It’s beautiful, being in tune with herself on this. Like the world is perfectly calm and balanced and right. 

“Love you too,” she says, and can’t resist a small playful nip at his lips. 


End file.
